


A Battle Awry

by phoenixquest



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixquest/pseuds/phoenixquest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The city of Kirkwall is in chaos. The Arishok has finally attacked. Isabela turns up to save them, though she's a little late. Garrett Hawke isn't going to let the Arishok take her, no matter how furious he is with her for running. So he agrees to the Arishok's duel...and it doesn't go so great for him. Anders tries to heal him, Fenris is livid, and Isabela doesn't quite know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Battle Awry

**Author's Note:**

> Had this written for a while, it follows my Garrett Hawke/Fenris pairing from "I Will Be What You Need", "Never Anger A Protective Hawke", and "Dream and Reality". I hope you like it!

“So tell me, Hawke,” the Arishok said, staring at the exhausted Hawke and the others with him. “You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. How would you see this resolved without it?” Hawke didn’t quite know what to say, but a sudden groan of pain from behind them all drew the attention of the room. A Qunari fell to the ground, and behind him – Isabela.

Hawke couldn’t say whether he was grateful or furious – perhaps both. He watched in shock as she approached, too tired to react to anything very quickly at the moment.

“I believe I can answer that,” she said, her tone just as carefree as always. With that, Hawke wanted to throttle her. She had caused all of this – the fighting, the killing, the murdering – and she could act so unworried about it all? She strode up to the Arishok, standing next to Hawke, and handed him a large book. “I’m sure you’ll find it…mostly undamaged.”

“The Tome of Koslun,” the Arishok said reverently, holding the book in his hands as though it might break.

“It took me a while to get back,” Isabela said cheerfully, turning to Hawke. “What with all the fighting everywhere. You know how it is.”

“You _betrayed_ me!” Hawke growled angrily, finding his voice. She gave him a look.

“That’s a little dramatic,” she said, sounding wounded. Hawke didn’t care – let her be hurt! How much pain and death had she caused? She ran off on him – after he’d trusted her!

“We could have prevented this if you hadn’t stolen the damn book!” Hawke yelled. “I trusted you, and you _left_!”

“Could we?” Isabela mused. “Maybe you’re right. Normally, I wouldn’t have cared.” She sighed hugely. “I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn round. It’s pathetic.” Hawke could hardly believe her nerve. Before he could say anything else, the Arishok spoke again.

“The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen. With the thief.”

“What?” Isabela asked, suddenly unsure for the first time. Hawke felt a perverse sort of pleasure in her fear. She should be afraid; she should feel something, at least. Look what she’d caused!

“You thought you could strand them here for four years without consequence?” Fenris asked incredulously.

“She stole the Tome of Koslun,” the Arishok said. “She must return with us.” Hawke almost – _almost_ – wanted to agree.

“You have your relic,” Hawke said instead to the Arishok. “She stays with us.”

“I’m sure he’ll take that well,” Varric muttered. “Rivaini, you might want to move a bit this way.”

“Then you leave me no choice,” the Arishok said. “I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will battle to the death – with her as the prize.”

“No,” Isabela broke in. “If you’re going to duel anyone, duel me!” Hawke had to admit he appreciated the attempt, angry though he still was. Nonetheless, he was _not_ going to let anyone take Isabela. She had betrayed him, but he would be the one to deal with her; not these Qunari.

“ _You_ are not basalit-an,” the Arishok said. “You are unworthy.”

“I accept your challenge,” Hawke said firmly. “I win, and you leave here…and Isabela stays.”

“So shall it be!” the Arishok declared angrily.

“Hawke, no!” Anders protested.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Varric muttered. Isabela remained silent, as did Fenris. She looked uncertain, while Fenris looked downright furious.

“Stay out of it!” Hawke ordered them. “I mean it.”

The fight lasted much longer than Hawke would have preferred. He’d already been fighting a lot that night, and he’d gotten his share of injuries; a quick healing spell from Anders could only do so much. But finally, _finally_ , he was wearing the Arishok down.

Hawke moved in to get another good strike; before he could see it happening, the Arishok had driven his blade straight through Hawke’s armor, impaling him and even lifting him slightly. Hawke cried out, the pain hitting him, before anger surged through him and drove it away. 

“No!” he shouted, and brought his own sword down onto the Arishok’s head, close enough that the thickest part of the blade found his skull. The Arishok yelled out in rage before falling, Hawke’s sword cleaving his head in two. Hawke stumbled backward off the Arishok’s blade, gasping as he clutched at his stomach.

“Hawke!” a voice cried. Hawke’s head was spinning and he fell to the floor, unable to see or focus on anything more. A bluish haze entered his vision and strong hands grasped his arm. “Dammit, mage, heal him!”

“I’m working on it,” Anders’ voice came through gritted teeth.

“Here, Fenris,” Merrill said. Hawke wished he could focus, but he knew without a doubt it was Fenris’ hands on him. He wondered if the Qunari were leaving. He assumed so, since no one seemed to be attacking them.

“Hawke, drink this,” Fenris’ rough voice came then, sounding terrified and angry. Hawke felt a bottle at his lips and he opened his mouth, drinking whatever was pushed on him. He felt strange – it didn’t even hurt, really. It was like he was floating in a sea of fog, and he couldn’t quite make out anything.

“We have to get his armor off,” Anders said. “It’s interfering with my healing.”

“Enchanted,” Hawke murmured vaguely.

“Shut up,” Fenris’ voice hissed. “You’re making it worse. Be _quiet_ , and be still!”

“Fen,” Hawke sighed then, feeling inexplicably happy. “You’re here.”

“I told you to shut up,” Fenris snarled. “Yes, I’m here, where else would I be? Stop struggling,” he added. Hawke paused, confused, and then realized he was fighting whoever was trying to remove his armor.

“Just take it easy, Hawke,” Anders said, his voice more reassuring than Fenris’ anger. “I’m trying to heal you. You’ll be all right.”

“Maker,” Isabela said softly. “It went straight _through_ him, didn’t it?”

“What, did you not see it sticking out his back?” Fenris snapped. “Yes, it went all the way through him!”

“Is it over?” a new voice interrupted. 

“It’s over,” Aveline spoke up. “The Qunari have left. The city has been saved.” Hawke thought he could hear cheering and applause. It was just so hard to make out. He just wanted so very much to sleep…

“Hawke!” Fenris barked. “Stay with us!”

“No,” Hawke said stubbornly.

“Yes,” Fenris growled. “Do you want another injury?”

“Stop threatening him, Fenris,” Merrill chastised.

“He’s all right,” Hawke mumbled. He wasn’t sure it had actually come out of his mouth or not. He was starting to be able to feel again; he could feel the warmth of Anders’ magic.

“An apostate,” someone snapped angrily. “There!”

“He’s healing your new Champion,” Aveline snapped. “Leave him be!”

“Champion?” Hawke mused.

“Be quiet, or so help me,” Fenris growled. Hawke was beginning to register the soft way the elf’s fingers were stroking his scalp, despite the harsh tone.

“You’ll have to deal with all of us if you want to get to Anders,” Varric sighed. “Is it worth it right now, Knight-Commander?” There was a pause.

“Fine,” Meredith snapped. “We’ll deal with the rest of this later.”

“ _Why_ isn’t he all right?” Fenris barked. “What are you waiting for, mage?”

“I’m trying!” Anders said hotly. “I’m doing everything I can! Do you have a better plan for someone who’s been run through with a greatsword?”

“Bickering isn’t going to help Hawke,” Aveline broke in firmly.

“Just… _fix_ him,” Fenris muttered, a catch in his voice that Hawke wondered if anyone else heard.

“I’m trying,” Anders replied softly. “I am.”

“’m fine,” Hawke murmured. He realized his eyes were closed, and he had no desire to open them. He heard both Fenris and Anders snort at that.

“Fine, indeed,” Fenris growled. “Don’t you _dare_ die on me, Hawke.”

“This hurts,” Hawke managed a moment later, frowning. “Stop it…”

“It hurts because you’re not on the verge of death anymore,” Anders said harshly. “I realize it’s unpleasant, but stop moving – you’re making my job harder.”

“Come on, Daisy,” Varric spoke up. “Let’s go get Hawke’s house ready for him.”

“Right,” Merrill agreed. She sounded uneasy, but that was the last Hawke heard from either of them, so he assumed they departed.

“Damn,” Hawke hissed as Anders hit a particularly painful spot with his healing fingers. “Isn’t it supposed to feel better when it’s healed?”

“There’s no way in Thedas I can _heal_ this,” Anders said, and Hawke realized he sounded exhausted. “I can barely keep you from dying. Trust me, I’m not _trying_ to hurt you.”

“He sounds more alert,” Aveline observed. Hawke realized she was right – he _was_ feeling more alert. He blinked open his eyes, finding terrified green ones staring back at him. He grinned suddenly.

“You have the loveliest emerald eyes,” he said admiringly. “It doesn’t hurt so much now.” Fenris’ face turned scarlet.

“Hawke, now is not the – “

“Oh, come on, it’s precious,” Isabela cooed. “Maybe now they’ll – “

“Shut it,” Aveline interrupted. “No one wants your comments right now.”

“I can’t do anything more,” Anders finally said. “You’re going to need to recover for quite some time, and take potions regularly, but you’ll live.”

“Thank the Maker,” Fenris breathed, his eyes closing in relief.

“I’ll help get him back to his place,” Anders added. “He – “

“I’ve got him,” Fenris snapped, his arms closing possessively around Hawke. “You think I cannot lift him because I am an elf?” Anders sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I think you can’t carry him alone because he is _injured_ and shouldn’t be jostled,” Anders said tiredly. “It’s better for him this way.”

“Pretty Eyes should take me,” Hawke spoke up decisively, wondering if anyone could understand him; he could tell he was slurring badly. Fenris reddened, Anders chuckled, and the others turned away.

“I have to wonder if you hit your head as well,” Anders said, shaking his head. “Come on.”

The group managed to get Hawke back to his estate and up the stairs to his bedroom without too much additional harm.

“Someone ought to stay with him,” Anders said. “He doesn’t need to strain himself, and if anything goes wrong…”

“I can do that,” Aveline offered.

“No,” Fenris said forcefully. Everyone stared at him, Hawke included. “I – I will watch him.”

“All right,” Anders said, obviously not up for arguing. “I’ll be in my clinic, if he needs anything.”

“I…will find you, if necessary,” Fenris replied. He didn’t like the mage, but for Hawke…

“Good,” Anders said. “I’ll check on him tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Anders,” Hawke said tiredly from the bed. “You’re great.” Anders gave him a small smile.

“Rest,” he ordered, and then walked out of the room. Aveline, Merrill, and Varric all wished him well before leaving, too – Hawke hadn’t seen what had become of Isabela.

“So,” Hawke said, looking at Fenris.

“You better do as he said,” Fenris told him. Hawke managed a small smile.

“Hurts too much to do otherwise,” Hawke agreed. He paused. “Fenris…you don’t have to stay,” he added. “I don’t want this to be too hard on you or – “

“No,” Fenris said firmly. “It is not. I will stay.” He left it at that.

“Maker,” Hawke sighed, his eyes fluttering shut again. “One-on-one duel with the Arishok, where I survive being run through with a greatsword.”

“Varric will have a wonderful time with this story,” Fenris smirked. Hawke laughed, then winced.

“Ow.”

“You should rest,” Fenris said, his voice more gentle than it had been all night.

“Done snapping at me, then?” Hawke asked, the corners of his lips turning up.

“I…apologize,” Fenris said softly. “I was worried for you.”

“I know,” Hawke said. “It’s all right.” He sighed softly, even that movement making him wince. “Fenris?”

“Yes, Hawke?” Fenris asked.

“You…you’ll stay, really?” Garrett asked, unsure. “I mean…you’ll be here?”

“Until you’ve no more need of me,” Fenris promised softly. Garrett smiled.

“You might be stuck here a while.” Fenris chuckled, and ventured to grab Hawke’s hand.

“Go to sleep,” Fenris said. “Rest and heal, Hawke.” Hawke squeezed his fingers lightly, pleasantly surprised to find the spiked gauntlets missing.

“Thanks,” Garrett murmured.

“Just do me one favor,” Fenris said softly, moving to lay down next to Hawke. Whatever his feelings after their night together, he couldn’t do anything else. Not right now.

“Hmm?” Hawke asked.

“Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again,” Fenris murmured, the fear evident in his voice. Hawke cracked his eyes open to look at the elf.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised. Fenris squeezed his fingers.


End file.
